There is a girl in the front of my class,
Who I swear I've never seen,
Do anything but laugh,

She's tall and she's smart,
Beautiful and strong,
And when someone's down,
She tried to fix what is wrong,

How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure,
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns,
And still want to hurt more,

How does someone so loving,
Learn to hate her own guts,
Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade,

As if her mind isn't dark enough,
There is a girl in the front of my class,
Who's eyes are glazed over,
Like newly cut glass,
The ghost of a smile,
Hints her face,

And she laughs as they tell her,
'Who's on first base'
How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure,
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns,

And still want to hurt more,
How does someone so loving,
Learn to hate her own guts,
Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade,

As if her mind isn't dark enough,
There is a girl in the front of my class,
Who's so sad you find it rare,
To see her smile or laugh,
Her friends tell her jokes,
Like that one guy,
But all she does is close her eyes,
And enter her mind,

How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure,
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns,
And still want to hurt more,
How does someone so loving,
Learn to hate her own guts,

Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade,
As if her mind isn't dark enough,
For her imperfections..

There is not a day,
I don't think,
About razors and pills,
And windows and cars,
And ropes and guns,
And it's perfectly fine,
It's become a part of me,

*But when you talk,
About razors and pills,
And windows and cars,
And ropes and guns,
The same way I think about them,
That is,
What breaks me beyond repair.